HARTLEY'S UNDERSEA WALK IN BERMUDA

BY GREG HARTLEY AND LANCE FURBURT

This is a poem of my personal grief
On the undersea walk, exploring the reef.
Suntans they promised and a sunny clear day,
But 50-knot winds rocked the boat in dismay.
He said 'Wear this short suit, it'll keep the cold out.'
But he's bundled up like an Eskimo scout.
I start to wonder 'bout this difference in suits.
Then he laughs and teases, 'I even have boots.'

He said 'You will love it, it will be a thrill.'
I looked for some paper. I should make a will.
A big bulky helmet, it must weigh a ton
Lands hard on my shoulders, the end has now come.
I start to descend, the world's closing around.
But he's got my foot, and he's pulling me down.
My ears are now hurting, they're sure to explode.
He says 'Just blow hard, but hang on to your nose.'

The fish are so few, and the reef looks haunted.
I can now see, it's the money they wanted.
My fingers are numb, and my lips are dark blue,
I'd be more pleasant, at a warm 82.
When snapping a picture, he tells me to smile.
I'm so very cold. I'll go up in a while.
He says 'Look at me.' I don't want to be rude,
But these hungry grunts think my fingers are food.

I dream of the moment, when standing ashore,
I'll be on dry land, kiss the ground I adore.
I must be crazy to get talked into this.
I better point up now, here comes a big fish.
Look at that great mouth, this is surly the end.
But he pulls out some food. 'This snapper's my friend.'
He will not go away, he has teeth galore.
Call him Oliver, cause he always wants more.

Now inside a dark hole, look what I can see,
A big yellow eel, and he's coming for me.
With an evil like grin and razor sharp teeth
He slithers around us. We'll soon be dead meat.
I'm bracing myself for the bite of this eel,
But he starts to pet him, says 'It's no big deal.'
Now I'm thinking of Jaws, I look all about.
I see a great fish, with an enormous snout.

This monstrous hogfish, his lunch he demands.
He swallows a mussel. Will he take my hand?
At last up the ladder with helmet of lead.
The crew yanks it off, with a bang on the head.
Thoughts of hot cocoa were my only delight,
The crew gulps the last cup, 'I had a rough night.'
I fight motion sickness, my shoulders sure hurt.
The crew now demands, 'Hey, you must buy a shirt'.

I fork out the cash, I'm forced to subdue.
I've just lost my lunch, now I'm catching the flu.
We head back to land in a thunderous roar,
Diesel smoke bellows - conservationists sure.
Nightmares of those eels, and my poor grazed up knees,
I'll soon be rid of these pirates of the seas.

December's bad timing, I now can see why.
Those clear brochure photos, they took in July.
My feet on the dock, the trip is at an end.
'Please visit us next year, and do bring a friend.'
Now I understand why there is so much talk
About the incredible, undersea walk.